My Sex Is a Killer (Do You Want To Die Happy?)
by DarkLuminescence
Summary: Clarke/Murphy angry sex


"What do you want, Murphy?" Clarke could already feel her patience wearing thin. Sure, it had been months since they had been reunited, and yeah, they had a moment a few weeks ago where she said had finally agreed to give him one more chance to prove her wrong. He promised her he wouldn't waste it this time.

That didn't make them friends, or anything.

He was still a notorious pain in her ass, who always showed up at the worse time, with his sarcastic comments and a lazy smile perfectly in place. She often wanted to kick or punch him (it took a great amount of restraint not to, and for that she ought to be rewarded, or, for the very least, some acknowledgement wouldn't hurt.)

"Wow, I haven't even said anything yet and you're already biting my head off." He lifted his hands in surrender and her eyes drilled holes into his head.

"Maybe that's because I came out here to be _alone." _She didn't bother trying to hide her annoyance when it came to him. Most of the time they the two of them were civil, what more could he ask for? Besides, very few people seemed to understand, that she needed to have a chance to be by herself. A chance to forget the bad stuff for fifteen seconds, and just breathe.

Murphy was not one of those people.

What, with his complaints here, and his bitchy comments there, it was a miracle she hadn't told him to shut up yet. (Though, Bellamy was usually there to do it for her.)

"What is your problem with me?"

Clarke nearly choked on her laugher, doubling back as her hand fell to her stomach. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like this, and when she lifted her eyes to see Murphy watching her, she noticed his expression was solemn. (His smile suited him better.)

"Wait, you weren't joking?" She bit back more laughter and shook her head a little. "Oh, God, Murphy. The list is way too long."

"Then lets do something about it."

"What?" She said, not quite understanding what it was he was suggesting.

"I, for one, hope to survive just a little longer, and I'm sure you'll stick around for a while too, and you did say you were giving me another chance, so maybe just stop with the bullshit and work with me a little here. Trust me, it's a lot more fun liking me, than hating me, Princess."

Hearing him use that nickname felt out of place.

"Don't call me that."

"You sure as hell don't seem to mind when Bellamy does."

On the surface, his words rang true but beneath it there was clearly an implication there.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"C'mon, Clarke. Everyone knows. At this point they're just waiting for you two to get on with it."

The idea of rumours like that going around, made Clarke more mad than she'd have thought. Her and Bellamy's relationship was strictly professional, save for the fact that he _was_ one of the most _important_ people in her life. But that was another story.

They were just friends.

"Well you're wrong— which is something you should be use to by now."

"Prove it." Murphy tilted his head, and when she looked up, she found he was staring her down, like a game had just started, that she didn't know the rules for. But without rules— she could do whatever she pleased. (And, boy, did she want to wipe that smirk right off his face.)

So she did the one thing he would never have expected.

She kissed him.

He stumbled backward, as her hands took hold of his face, and after a second, she shoved him hard (hard enough to make it hurt) against a nearby tree.

"What are you—" He trailed off the second she took off her shirt, both shock and lust flickering in his gaze.

"Stop talking." She ordered, before slipping his jacket down his arms, and tossing it to the ground. Next went his shirt, and soon her mouth was moving down his chest, her teeth dragging along his skin until she was crouched low enough to be face to face with his crotch. The bastard was already hard, and she couldn't contain the downright seductive smile that formed on her face, as she looked up him. She unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the ground, but then, changing her entire course, (this was a game after all) she decided to stand up straight and back way from him, until she felt another tree behind her. There was too much space between them now, but at the same time not nearly enough. She slowly unzipped her pants, slipping out one leg at a time, and kicking them to the side.

Murphy took a hesitant step forward, but the second she held up a hand he stopped.

She proceeded by slipping a couple of fingers into her underwear, and threw her head back against the tree, a low moan growing in the back of her throat, his own mouth hanging open.

It was one of the hottest noises he had ever heard.

That's when he closed the space between them, his hand wrapping around her neck and his mouth hovering over her own. He replaced her fingers with his, and _fuck _she was so wet, it drove him crazy with desire.

"I—I hate you." She groaned, as he went deeper, almost unable to speak.

Murphy grinned, tightening his hold on her neck, and biting the area just beneath her collarbone.

"The feeling is mutual, Princess."

She shoved him again, and again, and again, until he tripped over a root in the ground, and smacked his head against the dirt. He winced, at the slight discomfort shooting through his body, but all was forgotten when she tugged off his pants and straddled the fuck out of him.

Slipping out of her underwear and rearranging her body a little, she hovered just above him, tauntingly.

"I said…" She lowered herself a little.

"Don't…" And a little more.

"Call…" Almost there.

"Me." Just about—

"That." _Fuck _the two of them thought in union.

She started off riding him slowly, but soon she was grinding into him, his fingers digging into her waist, until he flipped the two of them over. Rocks and sticks stabbed her in uncomfortable places, but she didn't care. She wanted him to go deeper, to go harder, to make it hurt in all the right ways.

Her legs snaked around his body tightly, and he hit a spot the made her claw at his back, and scream out his name. She wanted to cover her mouth with her hand, or bite down on her tongue, furious at herself for giving him that kind of satisfaction, but _oh_, the way he was going inside of her— she was over it quickly.

He finished seconds after her, dropping his chest onto hers, both of them trying to catch their breath. She fought the urge to run her fingers through his hair, that looked way to good all dishevelled like that. (Funny, he was thinking the same thing about her.)

"Get up." She said, pushing him a little, until they were both standing and getting dressed. It was when he was slipping into his jacket, that she finally looked at him again.

"So… same time tomorrow?"

Clarke rolled her eyes, and pushed past him as she began walking in the direction of the camp.

"Fuck you, Murphy."

He shrugged, tossing his hands up in the air.

"Sweet. It's a date."


End file.
